Page 7 of Ruthless Silence
The contracts are signed. Ana's signature is precise, controlled, nothing like the tremor in her hands. She sets the pen down like it weighs a thousand pounds.
Time for the obligatory handshakes. The ritual of pretending this is civilized business rather than a blood pact between enemies.
Marco extends his hand first, dismissive, already moving on to the next matter in his mind. Ana shakes it briefly, professionally, nothing personal in the contact.
Then she turns to me.
I stand slowly, using every inch of my height. Six-foot-three of silent threat rising from the chair. Ana has to tilt her head back to maintain eye contact, but she doesn't step away. Brave little Moretti.
I extend my hand. She stares at it for a heartbeat, two, then places her palm against mine.
The contact hits like lightning. Electric and immediate. Something shifts in the air between us, charged and dangerous. Her palm is fever-hot against mine, her pulse a hummingbird's panic beneath my thumb. She smells like hotel soap and exhaustion. A woman running on nothing but determination. The touch sends heat racing through my veins, unexpected and unwanted.
I imagine those small hands wrapped around my cock instead of plotting my death. Wonder if she'd grip me with the same fury she grips her composure. The thought makes me adjust my stance.
I hold on one second too long. Two. Three. My thumb finds her pulse point at her wrist, pressing gently, feeling the rapid flutter beneath her skin. Her pulse races like prey, but her eyes promise predator.
The electric current between us intensifies, and I see her feel it too. Her eyes widening slightly, breath catching. This wasn't supposed to happen. She came here to face a monster, not to feel this crackling tension that makes the air between us shimmer.
Or maybe she just sees the pure determination in my eyes.
The lawyers gather their papers, eager to escape the tension in the room. Ana moves toward the door, her spine still straight despite the exhaustion I can see in every line of her body.
At the threshold, she turns back. Her hands move deliberately, each sign a bullet aimed at my chest:
"I will learn more about you. Then I will decide."
My body responds to the threat like foreplay. Blood rushing south, muscles coiling with anticipation. She's promising investigation and my cock interprets it as seduction. Twisted, but then I've never claimed to be sane.
For the first time in ten years, something like satisfaction curves my mouth. Not quite a smile, but close enough to unsettle anyone watching. My hands shape my response:
"Learn all you want. I'll be waiting."
She holds my gaze for one more heartbeat, and I see it again. That war between hatred and curiosity, between what she's been told and what she's learning. Then she's gone, leaving only the lingering scent of exhaustion and determination, and the phantom sensation of her racing pulse beneath my thumb.
The door closes behind Ana with a soft click that echoes in the sudden silence.
Marco leans back in his chair, studying me with those dark eyes that miss nothing. "She wants to kill you."
I sign quickly: "She wants to try."
"And that excites you?" His voice carries amusement now, the Don persona dropping to reveal my brother beneath. "The way you held her hand, the way you're almost smiling. Christ, Dante, you're actually turned on by this."
"She's perfect."
Marco laughs, actually laughs, the sound rich and unexpected in this sterile conference room. "Perfect? She came here exhausted, accused you of murder with her eyes, and just promised to study you like prey. And it excites you."
I nod. Exactly.
"Ten years of silence, and this is what makes you react? A woman who wants you dead?" He shakes his head, but I see understanding in his eyes. "You always did like the dangerous ones."
My next message is longer: "She learned sign language for a year. Not to talk to me. To fight me. She thinks she knows what I am. The challenge of her excites me more than anything has in years."
"And what are you?"
I meet his eyes steadily as I sign. "Ready for the hunt."
Marco stands, straightening his suit jacket smoothly. "You know she's not prey, right? That girl has teeth.
